The Volunteer
by Agent Grace
Summary: Near the end of Mockingjay, Katniss votes in favor of a Hunger Games involving capitol children. This story is about these games from the point of view of a fourteen year old tribute named Miranda.
1. Chapter 1

The citizens of my district are scared. Terrified really. I can see it in their eyes, in the way they walk, quietly and cautiously. Before the rebellion led by Katniss Everdeen ended two months ago, bringing strict new rules for capitol citizens and a division of the capitol into twelve districts, my peers were always lighthearted, giggly, clueless and overall, at least to my eyes, pretty repulsive. Their weird and often unnerving tendencies and fashions disgusted me and I didn't want anything to do with them. I was even repulsed by my parents and younger sister Katrina. But the announcement of the 76th Annual Hunger Games has humbled them, and in their new state of silence and passivity I find them strangely likeable, at least considering what they used to be.

I grew up watching the Hunger Games. Watching kids from the districts endure so much pain and torture. Kids my age. I was never okay with the Hunger Games, the way the capitol watched it as if it were a sports event and not a bunch of children fighting to the death. Of kids dying in bloody, gruesome ways. So when the announcement for the 76th Hunger Games was made I felt, oddly enough, good about it, satisfied. Because these aren't the normal Hunger Games. These games will be different. These games will feature twenty-four capitol children fighting to the death. And tomorrow is reaping day.


	2. Chapter 2

When I wake on the morning of Reaping Day my parents are already up and bustling around the one room that we now all have to share. (Unlike most capitol people who like to sleep late after staying up half the night, I am an early riser. I was up rather late last night thinking about the impending events of today however, which probably explains why I woke up so late this morning.) My family used to live in a large mansion barely a block away from the Presidential Mansion itself and I was often kept awake by the grand and exciting parties that were held there. But when the districts formed, the leaders of the rebellion(comprised mostly of old victors and people from District thirteen, which did actually exist) decided that they were entitled to the best parts of the capitol. This meant that my family as well as thousands of other people were forced out of their homes and squeezed into the less rich parts of the city. We now live in a small apartment which we share with three other families of about our size. And I can tell you that it has _not _been easy living in such cramped quarters with _my _family.

My mother's loud and slightly frantic voice snaps me out of my daze.

"Miranda? Miranda are you awake? Come we must get you ready for the... reaping." She almost chokes on the word but manages to contain herself. "You know what they will do to us if we are late." Mom says this with resentment in her voice. I have never applauded her ways but the last few weeks I have felt sorry for her. She is just as nervous as everyone else is about the games. This doesn't stop me from being my usual cynical self however. I sit up in bed.

"I know Mom, if we're not at the park by noon exactly they will drag us to the middle of the stage and shoot us in the head.'" I quote the words which had been broadcast to us over a speaker system for the last couple of days, a common reminder of what the procedure for today was, and that we were in their power now. Mom blanches but nods and hands me my clothes for the day. A simple, white dress with a pink ribbon and some plain, black shoes. The best outfit that they let me keep.

By noon all of district five has gathered in the park and no one is shot. I glance over at Katrina who stands with the other twelve year-old girls. _Poor kid_, I think. Katrina looks absolutely frantic. I look around at the fourteen year-old's who I joined after registering with Katrina. During that process we had to write our names on the slips of paper that would go into the reaping ball. My name, Miranda Blake, dark against the white of the paper remains seared in my vision for minutes afterward. I sigh. Everyone around me is crying or hyperventilating, the silence of the last few weeks having dissolved with the imminent approach of the reaping in a few minutes. Even the boys are reacting in this undignified manner. _This is just _really _sad_ I think in disgust.

Finally, at 12:15 exactly, District Five's mayor(some rebel leader named Gale Hawthorne or something) mounts the stage.


	3. Chapter 3

Mayor Hawthorne(_wow _he is young) taps the microphone a couple of times and everyone turns their attention towards the stage and quiets down out of fear. Armed soldiers surround us.

"Two years ago the 75th Annual Hunger Games or the third Quarter Quell, ended with a handful of tributes, or in this case former victors, who survived and were rescued from the arena and the clutches of President Snow and the Capitol. These games marked the end of the the Capitol's cruel reign over the districts. Now it is the Capitol's turn to suffer as we did. Without further ado, let the reaping for the 76th Annual Hunger Games begin!" Ugh, what hypocrites these people are. If I'm not mistaken, the whole _point _of the rebellion was to stamp out stuff like this."Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be _ever _in your favor" the Mayor finished sarcastically. "We will begin with the girls."

Mayor Hawthorne walked to the reaping ball on his left and plunged his arm in all the way up to the elbow. He then stirred around the hundreds of papers inside of it and withdrew his arm. The small piece of paper in his hand fluttered in the breeze like a tiny white flag of surrender as the Mayor walked back to the microphone. He slowly unfurled the paper.

"Silene Sharpe!" he yelled into the mic. A tiny squeal arose from the twelve year-old's and a small girl emerged, her abundance of curls dyed a vivid blue. The girl was sobbing and screaming as if it were the end of the world, which I suppose it was for her, yet all of the other girls were breathing obvious sigh's of relief, smiling, even laughing. They were celebrating their good fortune even as this poor, condemned twelve year-old girl stumbled to the stage. _They _had nothing to worry about, at least not anymore. Unlike the previous Hunger Games involving the children of the old districts there would only be one of these. They had not been picked and they never would be picked. They were safe. As Silene mounted the stage a million thoughts poured through my head. Rushing around like a swarm of angry tracker jacker's. _Was this really the world I lived in? Were these people the one's I had grown up with? Was I expected to be like them? Conceited, self-absorbed and unfeeling? _Silene had arrived at the middle of the stage, a huge expanse of metal, swallowing her.

"Are there any volunteer's willing to take this girl's place as a tribute?" he asked. There was silence except for a few "No's" and "Definitely not me's" from the girl section of the audience. "In that case let us get a big round of applause for-"

Without thinking I blurted "WAIT! WAIT, I-I... I volunteer as tribute!" And I walked purposely towards the stage and climbed the stairs to the top.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing I notice when I look out at the crowd are the stunned and slightly confused looks on the faces of my parents. _Oh my God! _I think frantically. _What have I done? What have I done? I just volunteered for the _Hunger Games_, the frigging _HUNGER GAMES_! I was safe! I hadn't been reaped and yet I still volunteered and now I'm probably going to die! What is _wrong _with me?_ Even as I think these things however, I know that I had to do it. I know that it is always what I've been meant to do. Maybe it is even the reason I was put here, on Earth, in the first place.

"It seems as if we have a volunteer." _Well duh. _The Mayor turns to me and asks me my name.

"My name is Miranda Blake" I respond shakily. Mayor Hawthorne whispers to Silene that she can go back to her place in the audience and she scurries off the stage. But not without first giving me a look of pure gratitude and a quiet thank you. I nod at her in return. Mayor Hawthorn then turns to the microphone and speaks into it.

"District Five's tribute, MIRANDA BLAKE." A weak applause ensues from the audience but dies down quickly. It is time for the boys. The Mayor repeats the process he used to reap from the girls and within a few minutes a fifteen year-old boy named Cameron Blu stands next to me trying his very hardest to hold back tears. He is trembling slightly and I feel absolutely terrible for him. No one volunteered to take the place of Cameron Blu.


	5. Chapter 5

After being on the train for only a half hour or so, I know I am going to lose it. Our escort, a middle-aged man named Brandon Cole, keeps casting us looks full of malevolence and vengeance as well as muttering things like "now it's _your _turn to suffer" under his breath. Meanwhile, my fellow tribute Cameron is _really _starting to get on my nerves, my feelings of pity for him earlier now replaced by a strong annoyance with him. For some reason he seems to be really bothered by the fact that I volunteered, as if the thought that I cared for somebody other than myself surprises him. And he won't _shut up _about it.

"Personally" he said "_I _would have just kept quiet." _You certainly aren't keeping quiet _now, I think. "I mean, why would you volunteer when you hadn't been reaped? That's just stupid! Are you like suicidal or something? I would never do that." He takes a breath as if he is going to say more and then bursts into tears. How typical it is for someone from the capitol to be so conceited and unsympathetic and yet cry at everything. But I suppose it is okay for him to cry. It is the self-absorption I detest. The way he seems to think that that girl's life is somehow unimportant, lesser than his own. I had hoped that Cameron would not be this way, that he would have applauded my sacrifice for Silene Sharpe. Unfortunately my hopes were false. Cameron is a capitol kid through and through.

When I could no longer stand the constant barrage of "Well? Why'd you do it? Why'd you volunteer? Huh?" **Tears** "It couldn't have been just to save that girl, right? What other reasons do you have?" **More tears**, I rose with a huff and retired to my bedroom where I could finally reflect on the days events in peace and quiet.

The first people who came to say goodbye were Katrina and my parents, all sobbing uncontrollably. They, like Cameron, couldn't seem to understand why I volunteered and they kept asking me why I did it. Over and over again. But when the three minutes were almost up they abandoned their attempts at getting anything out of me and commenced to embracing me and weeping over me until even _my_ eyes teared up a bit. You might think that I don't love my family, but I do, they just annoy me sometimes(well, most of the time), and the thought of leaving them, most likely forever, was finally getting to me.

My second visitor was much calmer despite her young age. As little Silene gave me a tentative hug she pressed a beautiful ring into my hand. The gold ring, which had a band of diamonds running around it, looked _very _valuable. I tried to give it back to her but she just shook her head.

"Please take it. It's the least I can do. Maybe it can even be your token for the arena" she said sadly. _This _was what finally made me cry. And I knew I had done the right thing in saving this girl.


	6. Chapter 6

After a long train ride we finally arrive in District Thirteen where the training of the twenty-four tributes will take place. It is dark when Cameron and I step out onto the platform outside the training center. Though the building is modeled like the one in the capitol, with twelve floors serving as temporary housing for the tributes as well as an underground training area, it is much smaller and a lot less grand. The apartment Cameron, Mr. Cole and I share on the fifth floor is small, simple, and quite drab, containing only the necessary rooms. Three bedrooms, one bathroom and a kitchen/dining area. Better than the one room I have been living in the past two months, but nothing compared to the mansion I spent most of my life in. As there is only going to be this Hunger Games, with no more after it, the rebels did not think it necessary to spend money on luxuriously furnished suites for the tributes.

After a quick explanation on the events planned for tomorrow, which includes the introduction of the tributes on the chariots at noon, I retire to my bedroom. I am in my room getting ready for bed when I hear a knock on the door. Thinking it is Mr. Cole, come to give me more endless instructions I sigh, brace myself in preparation of boredom, and walk to the door. It's not Mr. Cole. It's Cameron. So far our relationship has been pretty bad, especially after what happened earlier today. This morning, after sitting through another round of annoying, self-possessed ranting/sobbing, I finally snapped. Like a twig who just can't take the pressure anymore. Jumping up, I started yelling in his face.

"Urghhh! Cameron! Could you, _can _you, SHUT UP?" I asked him. "Can you not take a hint?" I stamped my foot in frustration. "Seriously, have you ever had an unselfish thought in your _life_? Because I wouldn't be surprised if you haven't." I added. "I volunteered for that girl for a lot of reasons. One of them was because I knew that she wouldn't have a chance and I couldn't sit there and do nothing. Not that you would understand." I paused to take a breath. "The others are too complicated for you to understand. There, I answered your stupid question! Will you leave me _alone _now? Please?" I stomped out in a rage, leaving Cameron looking slightly dazed and more than a little bit hurt. Before I slammed the door behind me, I turned around and screamed "...And could you just stop being so, incredibly, conceited?" I certainly have quite a temper.

So, seeing how the morning had gone for us I was quite surprised to see Cameron's face at my door asking to be allowed in. Usually when I blow up like that the people who had to face my temper steer clear of me for at least a couple of days. But apparently not Cameron Blu. I sigh and open the door wider to let him walk past me into my room.

"What do you want?" I ask harshly.

"I _want_ to apologize for the way I have been acting" he says simply. I immediately feel my face redden. I sit down on the bed(the only real piece of furniture in the room) and motion for him to join me.

"Okay, shoot me." Cameron looks down at his lap. His tanned face has reddened slightly too.

"First of all I would like you to know that I now realize how annoying and undignified I have been. I also realize that I have behaved badly, and like you say, conceitedly and I am sorry for that. I have been feeling very nervous however, seeing as I was, you know, reaped for the Hunger Games and all that. Unfortunately one of my faults is that I don't censor what I say, especially when I am nervous. I would be very grateful if you would understand that about me. I hope you will forgive my nosiness and non-stop talking." He finished. A wave of guilt washed over me like a wave crashing onto one of District Four's beaches and I ducked my head, hiding my face under my long, blonde hair like a weeping willow hides its trunk with its branches. _I _am the one who should be sorry, not Cameron. _I _am the one who lost my temper. Like Cameron, I have faults. And my biggest one is that I judge people before I really get to know them. And in doing so, I often taint my vision of them for the future. Cameron may have acted insufferably on the train but he seems genuinely sorry for it now. Maybe I misjudged him. Maybe he isn't like most capitol people I know. I reply without meeting his eyes, instead focusing on the purple highlights in my lightly swaying strands of hair.

"I accept your apology. And I-I'm sorry too. For yelling at you and...um... ignoring you like that. I shouldn't have acted the way I did either. And like you, I realize that now. It's just that... well, here's the thing" I stammer. "I've had to deal with selfish, self-absorbed people my entire life, people who are living it out in the capitol, people who don't give a crap what the people in the districts, or the kids in the Hunger Games, are going through, and it made me feel ashamed of who I was born to become, who I had to spend my time with. ...I guess that what I'm trying to say is that what I was yelling at you earlier, was really meant for everyone in the capitol. It was unfair for me to take my anger out on you." I finally look up and meet his eyes. They are a beautiful light green, something I had not noticed before due to the anger and annoyance that had clouded my vision. His hair is a sandy brown and curly. The ends are dyed a light green to match his eyes. Surprisingly, now that we seem to be making up, I actually feel myself becoming attracted to this boy. I shake my head, clearing it. I can not let that happen. After all, it is the Hunger Games, and both of us will not live. He looks at me and asks if we could be friends now. Or at least good acquaintances.

"Sure" I reply, smiling. "Why not?"


	7. Chapter 7

The following morning I wake to a loud pounding on my door and Brandon Cole's voice yelling at me to "GET UP" and that there's a prep team and stylist waiting to prepare me for the chariots later today. I glance at the clock mounted on my wall. 6:00AM.A wave of anxiety slams into me like a bolt of lightning and I groan and roll reluctantly out of bed. Even though I saw the recordings of the other reapings two nights ago, today is the day that I will have to actually face my fellow tributes. The people who I will have to kill if I want to have any chance of making it out of the arena alive. The thought fills me with dread. Mr. Cole pounds on my door again.

"Ok, ok, ok! I'm coming" I yell.

"You have two minutes" Mr. Cole growls back.

Ten minutes later, I am standing in front of my prep team, the banana I had choked down for breakfast seeming to have stuck in my throat.

For four long hours I am subjected to the torture of the prep team as they brush and clean and basically perfect every inch of me. But when they finish and I am finally allowed to get up and look at myself in the mirror, I am stunned by the person I see. My eyes shine from beneath layers of makeup and my face seems to glow. My hair falls down my back in waves, a waterfall of shining blond with just a hint of purple. The first thing my stylist says to me when she sees me is "_Wow, _Miss Miranda, you are _beautiful_. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Sarah Greene." For a few seconds I can do nothing but stare at her. During the rebellion I had heard rumors that there were citizens who had defected from the Capitol to join the rebels. At the time I had been told not to believe those rumors, that they were lies. Now however, as I looked into the eyes of Sarah, I know that those rumors must have been true. Her manner as well as her hot pink hair, eyes and lips provide no doubt that Ms. Greene is from the capitol. Maybe I wasn't the only Capitol citizen who didn't agree with the way we treated the districts. Sarah clears her throat and I hurriedly extend my hand to meet hers. She smiles at me and asks if I'm ready to get started or if I might like to eat something first. I should be hungry right now but I am much to nervous to even think of food so I shake my head and say that I am ready to begin when she is. She nods, understanding that I'm nervous and then leads me to the room where I will get dressed for the chariots. As we walk she explains how the costumes will work.

"As I am sure you know, the costumes for tributes in previous hunger games were based off of what their district produced." I nod, remembering the fiery costumes that had adorned Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. Sarah smiles. "Obviously, that theme is not going to work for these games. Instead each district will be represented by a different gem or precious metal... a way to show what the capitol used to be-"

"Wealthy, rich, the 'gems' of Panem." I cut in before she can finish.

"Exactly. District five will be represented by the ruby. Lucky you!" We arrive at the door to my dressing room and Sarah unlocks it and we walk in.

"I wouldn't call any of this lucky" I mutter under my breath.

Sarah obsessed over me for the next hour and a half, making me look "goddess like" as she called it. When she was finished however I looked in the mirror and gaped at a perfect stranger for the second time that day. The first thing I saw was my dress... long and heavy, reaching down to my feet and ending in a small train. Rings of rubies glistening from where they lined my throat, wrists and feet against the the thick, red velvet that made up most of the dress. My hair was piled on top of my head, a golden crown behind a sprinkle of yet more rubies. Everywhere I looked, the precious gems shined. The rebels must have spent a fortune on my outfit alone. I really did look "goddess like" and it took my breath away.

Finally, at 11:50 I was ushered to the makeshift stables where the chariots would launch. Halfway through the stable doors, I stopped dead in my tracks. Everywhere I looked, other tributes roamed about, a rainbow of colors. I felt myself pale. There was no way I was going to be able to do this. NO WAY. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around to see Cameron, looking very handsome in an outfit similar to mine, but in the form of a suit.

"It's horrible isn't it" he whispered in my ear. Together we walked towards our chariot which is fifth in line. As we push through the crowd of kids moving towards their own chariots, I feel overwhelmed. A twelve year old girl, a thirteen year old boy. They were too young to die. We were all too young. I cling to Cameron as we climb onto the chariot. Just yesterday I would have been repulsed at the thought of spending any time near him, but now I am grateful for his company. Dazed, I watched the chariots ahead of us begin to move, district one, then two. After what felt like hours, my chariot began to move and blinding sunlight streamed into my vision as Cameron and I were paraded down the road for the rebels to see.


End file.
